|
| |
Ancestral Farmstead
I returned to our farmstead last autumn
on the driveway where I kicked marbles
and plucked brambles catching my gaze-
Now overgrown at sixty-two
horse wagons filled the blank spaces
of my remembered landscape...
I walked like a ghost looking for dear home,
but found this lofty edifice
ridiculing, mocking me from its skylight--
The dogwood trees Grandma nurtured
now impetuously ravaged and gnarled,
casting shadows on translucent mirrors--
past her dream of a lush orchard,
that my eyes lingered through a heap
for treasures, hoping to discover
a piece of yesterday's laughter,
among the junk of ancestral, broken wood.
-------------
Emile Pinet's Contest: New Poems Only
4/16/2018
Copyright ©
Nette Onclaud
|
|